5 Minutes Until
by BFTLandMWandSEK
Summary: It took Lovino five minutes to call Antonio. Drabble.


**Story Summary: **Time slowed down for the five minutes after Antonio left.

**Warnings: **None.

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**||| 5 Minutes Until|||**

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**A minute after Antonio left**, Lovino was still lying on the couch Antonio had pushed him on. Over the course of sixty seconds, he considered rising from the black cushions many times. He imagined himself running out into the hallway, screaming for Antonio to turn around and return to him. He thought about retreating into the bedroom they used to share and curling in the sheets that would undoubtedly still smell of the bastard.

The closest he came to moving was when the balcony suddenly became a desirable spot to jump from. Lovino could already feel the sweet rush of the wind against his skin as he broke free from the shit he got himself into. The idea of splattering on the cold pavement six stories below was enough to keep him rooted and brooding on the safety on the couch.

Lovino wondered how long it would take for Antonio to come home himself.

**Two minutes after Antonio left**, Lovino finally sat up, observing the damage their argument had caused. Lovino remembered there being crashing objects all around him as he and Antonio exchanged screams and swears. Maybe he imagined it. Save for a broken window, the apartment they shared was intact, albeit a little empty. Antonio took up a lot of space.

Lovino placed his elbows on his knees, his hands loosely clasped together. Shard of broken glass littered the ground, shining a dull silver in the wan light. A cold draft blew through the windowless sill, bringing a chill that matched the overcast skies. Lovino wondered if he should put the effort in to clean up the mess, but decided against it. Antonio was the one threw the book at the wall. He should be the one to clean it up.

Lovino wondered if Antonio was even going to come home.

**Three minutes after Antonio left,** Lovino decided to fix the window himself. He hunted for a small bottle of super glue in the kitchen drawer, feeling a sense of duty when he found it huddled in the corner. The glass shards were small, hidden in the threads of the carpet. Lovino ran a light hand over them, feeling for a large piece. Although he tried to be careful, his shoes unmercifully crunched invisible glass into sharp dust.

Lovino tried to think back to the argument, but he could barely remember what it had actually been about. It was something petty, that was sure, but he didn't know who started it or why it had grown so intense. The incident was a long, thunderous roar in his memories with words morphing together and meanings blurred. Only one concise picture remained- Antonio leaving the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

But the weeks leading up to the argument were clear in his head. Antonio's sudden reluctance to spend long hours alone with him. Lovino worrying if the way Antonio's friends kept their hands on his boyfriend than what was socially acceptable was a sign for something. A harsh word to Feliciano, a growling threat to Francis. Antonio started looking at Lovino with an expectant eye, waiting for him to speak when he had no idea what to say.

A week before the argument, Antonio stopped calling him by his nickname: "Lovi."

During the argument, Antonio dared to call him by his full name: "Lovino Romulus Vargas."

Lovino found a shard of glass the size of his thumb. He fished it out of the carpet, holding it to the broken window. A frame of sharp glass as all that remained. Lovino tried to fit it in the many gaps and edges, but none of them clicked together with ease.

Lovino wondered if he'd broken all the good ones beneath his shoes.

**Four minutes after Antonio left,** Lovino stood in the middle of the stark room. He felt naked, like he had no purpose to exist.

He meandered to the other side of the living room, just a way to keep his mind entertained, before circling back to the window. He ghosted his hands across the DVD shelf, thinking of nothing in particular. For the hell of it, Lovino kicked off his shoes and stepped onto the couch. He bounced up and down on it a few times, trying to feel like an innocent child again. He stopped after a while, telling himself that he was stupid before lying down on the couch again.

This time he was restless, unable to lay in one position for more than a second before having to rearrange his body into a new pose. Then the cycle would repeat itself endlessly. Lovino wanted to think that this argument was a onetime deal, but a part of him was afraid that this was just the first of a natural order doomed to dictate his happiness for the rest of his life.

Lovino turned onto his back, stretched his arms parallel to his torso. The tips of his fingers touched the smooth surface of the side table. He pulled them further and they brushed the edges of the picture frame.

Lovino sat up, taking it into his hand. It was a photo of what Antonio called their first outing as a couple. It was from a few months before, the two of them leaning against the dock rail as a ferris wheel illuminated the background. Antonio had his arm wrapped around Lovino's shoulders, a large smile on his face as he bent to equal their heights. Lovino remembered hating the warm weather that day and the jealous looks men and women gave him when they saw the man he was dating. They were too similar to the ones he gave Francis when the blond dated Antonio. They made him uncomfortable. So in the photo, while his boyfriend smiled with all the joy a man would normally have on his first date, Lovino scowled and glared at the photographer.

Lovino studied the photo wearily. Yes there was a bright ferris wheel behind them, but there seemed to be a light special to the foreground. He brought it closer to his eyes, realizing the source. It was Antonio and his infantine smile. Lovino placed a hand over the image of himself and the picture lit up. It was no longer an idiotic man stuck with a cynical scowl. It was a young, promising man having a fun time by himself.

Lovino placed his hand over Antonio, hoping to see the same promise in himself. Without his boyfriend, he was nothing but a mid-morning gloom that refused to be evaporated by the sun.

Together, they were a strange mixture of grim happiness. It wasn't perfect, but it felt right.

**Five minutes after Antonio left**, Lovino pulled his phone out of his pocket. A press of a button speed dialed Antonio's number. The phone ranged. Lovino turned his on speaker and placed it on the spot next to him. He leaned into the cushions, letting them engulf his body.

Antonio picked up. "Lovino?"

Still no nickname.

"I want to talk," Lovino said.

There was a slight pause on the other side. "Alright then. Talk."

Lovino's throat swelled. He swallowed spit a few times, realizing that his eyes were starting to ache with tears. He held them back. "I did some thinking," he said, hating how his voice cracked. Still, he took a deep breath and continued on. "And I know what I want to say to you."

"And what is it?" Lovino couldn't tell if he was annoyed or calm. That scared him.

"I realized that I can't ever be rid of you. That even though you're an idiot, you're still a part of me. You're the best part of me. I don't think that I'm anything good without you." Lovino leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. "I thought you should know that."

Antonio was silent for far too long.

"What am I to you?" Lovino asked suddenly, feeling his face flush. "Am I-"

"...you're a part of me," Antonio said slowly. Carefully, like each word was fragile to the touch and all too easy to break. "You're the worst part of me."

Lovino didn't know how he was supposed to feel: hurt or angered? Maybe even a little foolish. He felt like all three twisted his heart into painful, deformed shapes. He reached for his phone, intending to end the call there when Antonio continued talking.

"You're the part that can make me sad as quickly as you can make me happy. You can make me so upset, yet I'm still the happiest person in the world. You're the part that I can talk to the easiest, yet have the hardest time telling my feelings. You're my worst part because for the first time in my life, I feel like I have no control over myself. And I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

They were both silent for a long time.

Lovino ran his finger down the length of his jeans. "We should talk," he said softly.

"We should."

"Will you come home then?"

"In a bit. I still need to walk a bit more."

"I'll see you then."

"Alright. Bye."

"Bye."

"I love you."

Lovino choked, realizing for the first time how afraid he was of never hearing those three words strung together for him, by Antonio, again. He was so relieved that he was barely able to mutter "love you too" before hanging up his phone.

He fell back into the couch, still uneasy but more peaceful than before.

Antonio will come back and they will talk. They will figure out what was broken between them and they will fix it together. Lovino closed his eyes and pressed his face into the cushions, waiting patiently for Antonio to come home.

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**MW: **So a lame old drabble I wrote a while ago because I was on a Spamano spree. I had been listening to the song "Break Even" by the Script when I got the idea for this. The line "what am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?" was a big part of my inspiration. I've also realized that I like Spamano best when they are having relationship problems. Don't know why. Probably for the same reason I like using bold in my oneshots.

**No Notes**

**Thanks for reading this piece of crap. I hope you all enjoyed. **


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